


With What We Have

by ellipsometry



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, American Football, M/M, Sports Swap, more sports talk(TM) than is probably necessary, this is my self-indulgent bday present to myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 06:59:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9709382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellipsometry/pseuds/ellipsometry
Summary: Oikawa Tooru:you. me. fisticuffs. dawn.Sawamura Daichi:Hello again OikawaSawamura Daichi:I actually have an exam tomorrow morning so I won’t be able to make itIn which Sawamura Daichi, captain of the up-and-coming Karasuno High School American Football Club, accidentally fraternizes with the enemy.





	

**Author's Note:**

> *takes a break from writing oidai to write more oidai* lmao  
> this is for [daichi rarepair week!!](http://daichirarepairweek.tumblr.com/) day 3, one of the prompts was "sports swap AU" and I couldn't resist an american football AU.

The boy sitting across the table from Oikawa looks too old to be a high schooler.  He could pass for one, sure, but he gives off an overly-responsible kind of aura that has Oikawa thinking twice.  While the boy fishes a notebook and several pens out of his messenger bag, Oikawa tilts his head to the side and examines him with narrowed eyes.

“Again, thanks for sitting down with me,” the boy says, “I’m sure you must get a lot of people asking to talk to you.”

“Sure, sure,” Oikawa says lightly, “Although lately not a lot of people actually want to talk to me about amefuto.”

“What?  Why’s that?”

There’s a copy of this month’s _American Football Monthly_ peeking out of the boy’s bag, and Oikawa nods toward it, “They can usually get enough material on me from after-game interviews.  Anyone else trying to talk to me is usually asking me to promote their brand.”

Oikawa Tooru, captain and star quarterback of the Aoba Johsai American football club, is certainly a hot commodity.  His life had gotten hectic enough in his second year that he’d been forced to hire a manager to handle his sponsorships and other engagements.  Now, in his last year of high school, with everyone expecting him and his team to finally overtake the powerhouse Shiratorizawa Academy, he was busier than ever.

So, to get a request from a fellow high schooler attempting to start an American football club at his own school was an oddity, to say the least.

“My name is Sawamura Daichi, by the way, from Karasuno High School,” Sawamura smiles, and Oikawa absent-mindedly notices the dimples in his cheeks, “We’ve never had enough people to field a full team… but we have some really talented first years, so I want to make sure I’m doing my best for them.”

“Happy to be of help,” Oikawa leans back in his chair, resisting the urge to prop his feet up on the table (a waitress had accosted him the last time he did that), “Before we start, though, I need to know what your goal is.  Like, just get a team together, or play in some practice games, or—”

“We want to go to the Christmas Bowl.”

“... Excuse me?”

“Sorry, let me correct,” Sawamura clears his throat, set his shoulders, and nods firmly, “We _are_ going to the Christmas Bowl.  And we’re going to win it.”

If Oikawa Tooru were a kinder person, he might have held back his instinctive bark of laughter, or perhaps said a few kind, encouraging words.  Perhaps he would laud Sawamura for dreaming big, holding nothing back, aiming for the national tournament’s final game, the ultimate peak of high school American football.

But Oikawa Tooru is not a kind person.  So, he cackles loudly, drawing strange looks from the other restaurant patrons, wipes a mirthful tear from his eye and says, “You’re _kidding_ , right?  Even _I’ve_ never been to the Christmas Bowl.  What makes you think _you_ can make it there?”

Sawamura, for his part, doesn’t look put off by Oikawa’s reaction.  It’s a reaction, Oikawa realizes suddenly, that he’s probably gotten many, many times over.

“I don’t _think_ we can get there.  I know we can.  And I’m not sure how I know it, but I just do.”

_Huh_ , Oikawa thinks.

In the world of American football, as with any sport, there are two kinds of players: the geniuses with natural abilities who rise above the rest, and everyone else.

And sometimes, rarely, there are those who could not be considered ‘geniuses,’ but stand out among all others nonetheless, products of stubbornness, hard work, and some well-earned luck.  Oikawa has always placed himself firmly in this camp.

Now, for some reason he hesitates to name, Oikawa finds himself wondering what kind of player Sawamura Daichi is.

“Well, Miyagi only gets one representative to the national tournament, and that’s going to be Seijou, sorry to say,” Oikawa sniffs, “But I guess I don’t see any harm in giving you a little advice.”

The corners of Sawamura’s lips twitch up, “That’s very kind of you.”

“Of course it is,” Oikawa lies, “I’m a very kind person.”

 

+

 

There’s only forty-nine seconds left in the second half.  That means that in anywhere between one minute and one hour, the game will finally be over, and Oikawa Tooru can finally head home, put on a moisturizing face mask, sink into the cushions of his couch, and settle in for a long night of binge-watching _Star Trek: The Next Generation_ on Netflix.

“Iwa-chan, would I look good with a beard?”

Iwaizumi tosses a water bottle at Oikawa, “Absolutely not.  Not that you could grow one anyway.”

Oikawa snatches the water bottle out of the air and downs it gratefully, “You wanna bet we can get two more touchdowns before the game ends?”

“Tch,” Iwaizumi scoffs, “I say we can get three.”

They don’t get three touchdowns, or two for that matter, but they do get one more touchdown and a field goal.  Seijou wins by a more-than-comfortable twenty-four points.

Apparently pleased by their win, Iwaizumi barely protests when Oikawa makes his way over to the stands to greet his loyal fans (and hand out coupons for a local restaurant, his newest sponsor.)

“Hey, good game,” there’s a warm and vaguely familiar voice coming from further up in the stand, and when Oikawa looks up he sees Sawamura, hand in his pockets, smile on his face, “I was kind of betting you guys would rack up another touchdown there at the end.”

“That’s what I said!” Oikawa says, grinning, “Looks like even we have some work to do before the fall tournament.  How’s your young brood coming along?”

Oikawa’s climbed over the chain-link fence separating the crowd from the field, and although his female fans eagerly swarm around him, he finds himself ignoring them in favor of Sawamura, who strikes an oddly compelling figure with his broad shoulders and easy smile.

“Pretty well, I’d say,” Sawamura eyes Oikawa’s fans, who are shooting him some particularly dirty looks for monopolizing Oikawa’s attention, “But you’ll see for yourself soon.”

With that, he waves his good-byes and hops down from the stands, out of Oikawa’s view.  Oikawa barely has time to question what Sawamura meant before he feels the sharp sting of a football to the head, followed by the distressed shrieks of his fans.

“Iwa-chan… you have a future as a quarterback ahead of you,” Oikawa wheezes out, rubbing the sore spot on the back of his head, “Sorry ladies, I’ll see you at the next game, alright?”  A chorus of crestfallen girls plays Oikawa off as he climbs back over the fence toward Iwaizumi.

“Hey, why were you talking to that guy from Karasuno?” Iwaizumi asks.

“Huh?  Sawamura-kun?  He asked me for advice the other day, he’s trying to start an American football club a Karasuno,” Oikawa pouts, “Is that weird?”

“No, no.  Well, weird that you were actually nice enough to give him advice,” Iwaizumi ignores Oikawa’s offended squawk, “I guess you know they have some impressive first years.”

“Yeah, he mentioned.  They’d have to get the program off the ground first, though.”

“I think they’re more than on their way.  Apparently, they’ve already beat Datekou,” Iwaizumi is smiling like he knows something Oikawa doesn’t.  Which he absolutely does, “I’m sure your protégé will do well there.”

“My… what?”

“Kageyama-kun is at Karasuno,” Iwaizumi says, tone casual, “I hear he’s their starting quarterback.  I thought you would have known.”

Kageyama Tobio, the absolute _bane_ of Oikawa’s final year of middle school, the person second only to Ushijima Wakatoshi on Oikawa’s shit list – _that_ Kayegama Tobio is the quarterback of the team Oikawa has been unwittingly helping along by doling out bits of wisdom to their captain.  He’s been aiding the enemy this entire time.

If the ear-piercing shriek that comes out of Oikawa’s mouth is anything to go by, it is clear that he absolutely did _not_ know that.

 

+

 

**Oikawa Tooru:** you. me. fisticuffs. dawn.  
**Sawamura Daichi:** Hello again Oikawa  
**Sawamura Daichi:** I actually have an exam tomorrow morning so I won’t be able to make it  
**Oikawa Tooru:** you’re a shady bastard sawamura-kun  
**Oikawa Tooru:** the one time i try to be nice and now my cute kouhai is trying to defeat me  
**Sawamura Daichi:** Well I actually didn’t know you and Kageyama-kun knew each other until recently  
**Sawamura Daichi:** Also, it’s not just him that wants to take down Aoba Johsai  
**Sawamura Daichi:** :)  
**Oikawa Tooru:** …… you’re more dangerous than you look sawamura  
**Oikawa Tooru:** and for the record i don’t like it one bit  
**Sawamura Daichi:** See you for the scrimmage next week!  
**Oikawa Tooru:** i’m rescheduling our fisticuffs for that date

 

+

 

American football is not exactly a popular sport for Japanese high schoolers.  Daichi thinks that might be why he likes it so much.

After two years of unsuccessfully trying to field a full team, it’s particularly gratifying to finally have enough players to play real games and enter tournaments.  The Karasuno High School American Football Club is still quite small – almost all the players have to pull double duty on offense and defense, even their new quarterback Kageyama.  But even so, they’re strong, and make an incredible showing against Datekou.  Their shrimpy new wide receiver Hinata has the most amazing jump Daichi’s ever seen, and it gives them a great secret weapon going into the fall tournament.

Before that, Daichi has managed to arrange a practice game with Aoba Johsai.  It will be their first test against one of the certified powerhouse schools they’ll have to defeat to be Miyagi’s representative to the national tournament.

Except, when Karasuno arrives at the aggressively well-maintained Seijou football field, their captain and quarterback Oikawa is nowhere to be found.  Not that Daichi was looking for him or anything.  And yet he still feels a twinge of disappointment as they take the field, Karasuno’s black pinnies looking particularly aggressive next to the soft seafoam green of Aoba Johsai’s.

Karasuno is defending first, so Daichi takes his place in the middle of the defensive line, squaring up Seijou’s linemen, most of whom are pretty tall and lanky.  Their second-string quarterback is a skinny second year who manages to look simultaneously smug and startled.

The game is short but hard-fought.  Daichi manages two sacks, Tanaka manages another one of his own, and Karasuno racks up the points even with Hinata off his catching game.  Maybe most impressively, when Seijou’s cornerback Kunimi intercepts one of Kageyama’s throws, the Karasuno quarterback manages to keep his relative cool and only calls Hinata a ‘fucking dumbass’ three times.  It’s a start, Daichi thinks.

“Once Oikawa-san comes back, we have to step it up,” Kageyama says to Daichi during a huddle, his face serious.

Kageyama’s comment turns out to be on the money.  When Oikawa finally saunters out onto the field, clipping his face mask with an air of nonchalance, the tension on the field doubles.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Daichi quips, hands on his hips.

Oikawa mirrors his pose, “Save it.  I’m about to end this.”

He does, in fact, end it.

Even after Karasuno forces a turnover and Hinata defies gravity to catch a Hail Mary pass from Kageyama, Oikawa still looks unperturbed.  He returns the punt himself, bringing it all the way to the 50-yard line, and then throws an effortless touchdown pass to Iwaizumi.  A successful conversion puts them one point ahead of Karasuno.  

The end-match whistle blows.

 

+

 

“You’re lucky that was just a scrimmage,” Oikawa says, stabbing his chopsticks at Daichi, “And you’re extra lucky I had a doctor’s appointment today and missed half the game.”

After the match, Oikawa whisks Daichi away, under the pretense of ‘important captain-like business.’  Daichi, expecting a dressing-down from the Seijou captain for seeking his advice under semi-false circumstances, instead finds himself in a small sushi joint next to the high school, once again across the table from Oikawa.

“We have a lot of work to do,” Daichi agrees, tone tentative, “And, for some reason, I get the impression you want to help us improve.”

Oikawa shoots Daichi a look like he’s just been accused of murder, “I will do no such thing.  I just have no interest in watching you continue to embarrass yourselves.”

“Kageyama still really admires you, you know,” Daichi says, “He’s got a weird way of showing it, but everything he does is with the goal of finally surpassing you.”

“Which he never will!” Oikawa announces, but his voice wavers ever-so-slightly, “I’m not fooled by his goody-two-shoes act.  He’ll get fed up if your Shrimpy-chan doesn’t keep up with him, so be careful of that.”

“I will,” Daichi nods, “Have you got any more advice for me?”

“Actually,” Oikawa pulls out a notebook, a whiteboard, and a dry erase marker, “I do.”

 

+

 

They make an odd pair, that much Daichi will admit.

It becomes a kind of ritual; every weekend Daichi and Oikawa will meet at a different restaurant, hashing over the week’s practices and scrimmages, exchanging notes and swapping bits of advice.

“You should put that freckly kid in on offense too,” Oikawa says through a mouthful of noodles, “Tight end.  Tall tight ends are the best.”

“He _has_ been doing some extra receiving practice,” Daichi says, writing something down in his notebook, “Hey, would you be able to watch a video of our practice game against Nekoma?”

“Already did.  I had some girl I know in Tokyo record it for me.”

Daichi can’t bring himself to be surprised, “You’re a creep, you know?  Get a life.”

“Back at you,” Oikawa rolls his eyes, “Do you wanna hear what I thought about it, or what?”

“... Yeah, yeah, go ahead.”

It dawns on Daichi, somewhere in the middle of their third or fourth get-together, that he might be the only person Oikawa really has to talk about the annoying yet exhilarating technical ins-and-outs of American football.  There’s no doubt that Iwaizumi and the rest of the Seijou team have had their ears drums thoroughly worn out by Oikawa.  And Oikawa isn’t exactly friendly with any of the other Miyagi captains, least of all Shiratorizawa’s captain Ushijima Wakatoshi.

American football players, Daichi has discovered, are first and foremost American football fanboys.  That proves to be true of Oikawa most of all, who lights up when discussing a new strategy or play or bit of applicable game theory he’s discovered.  It’s a side of Oikawa that Daichi imagines not many people get to see.

“You goin’ on another date tonight?” Suga’s voice is sugar-sweet as he calls out to Daichi after practice one day.

“No!” Daichi answers, a bit too quickly, “Oikawa is giving me some advice before the tournament next week.”

“ _Giving me some advice_ ,” Sugawara repeats, mockingly, “Is that what the kids call it these days?”

Daichi chucks a football at Suga and manages to escape the locker room without any further teasing.  But Sugawara’s words stick in his head, and he can’t help but feel a bit jittery as he and Oikawa settle in for dinner at a local burger joint.

“Let’s say you guys play Johzenji,” Oikawa has left the whiteboard at home tonight, but he’s still got a roster of the fall tournament flattened out on the table between them, “They always break formation and leave a man uncovered, so just have Tobio-chan take that opportunity, always.”

Daichi nods, “Yeah… thanks.”

“I’d ask your advice for going against Datekou, but I don’t think we’ll have a problem at all!”

“Probably,” Daichi looks down at his burger, which sits there untouched.

It’s uncharacteristically quiet for a few minutes, the air dead without Oikawa’s boasting or Daichi’s quick retorts.  Finally, when he feels like he might burst if he doesn’t say anything, Daichi says,

“Why are you even helping us?”

Oikawa sighs, his breath blowing his bangs out of his eyes, “Haven’t we already been over this?”

“Maybe,” Daichi’s brow furrows, “You know we want to beat Seijou, right?  Not just that we want to… we _have_ to.  We’re going to the Christmas Bowl.  We _are_ going to beat you.”

“You may say that,” Oikawa replies, voice low and serious, posture tightening up ever-so-slightly, “You think you can beat us, but you won’t.  We’ll win, and I’d much rather beat you when you’re in top form.  That way, everyone will know that Seijou is the team to beat this year.”

Oikawa lets the words hang in the air for a minute, before leaning back in the booth and cocking his head to the side, “That’s all!” he says, voice back to its usual airiness.

“Huh.”

“Huh?  What do you mean _huh_?”

Daichi can't stop the smile that spreads across his face, slow and sure, “Nothing, nothing.  I'm just glad.”

“You shouldn't be,” Oikawa sniffs, “Since you're going to lose.”

“Yeah, well, you're taking us seriously,” Daichi is almost thinking out loud as he talks, “You see us as an obstacle the same way we see you.”

“Of course I do, you're the one who said you're going to the Christmas Bowl!”

It was one thing for a school like Shiratorizawa or Seijou to aim for the Christmas Bowl.  Those were players groomed for greatness, of whom fantastic things were expected.  It was something else entirely for the ragtag team from Karasuno to say that, and yet Oikawa had still taken him at face value.  Perhaps not initially, but now he was seeing Daichi and Karasuno as real potential obstacles, not just bumps in the road.

Daichi goes quiet, lost in contemplation, and Oikawa prods his cheek with his long pointer finger, “You look way too happy for a guy who's going to have his Christmas Bowl dreams crushed pretty soon.  Am I that great of a dinner companion?”

“Yeah, you're alright,” Daichi shrugs, turning to smile at Oikawa, “We should keep this up.  The dinner part, I mean, not necessarily the football part.” He motions to the tournament roster, now a bit crumpled and covered in scraps of food.

“O-Oh,” Oikawa tries to cover his stutter with a fake cough, but Daichi doesn't miss it.  Nor does he miss the spread of pink across Oikawa’s cheekbones, “I guess I wouldn't be opposed to that.”

 

+

 

When they meet on the field – as, it seems, they were always destined to – Daichi and Oikawa are both stone-faced and serious, watching the referee flip the coin and then nodding crisply at each other before the start of the game.

“Hey,” its Daichi who finally breaks the silence, calling out to Oikawa before they break to their respective huddles, “Winner gets to pick where we eat next.”

Oikawa laughs under his breath, turning to look at Daichi, his helmet propped against the jut of his hip, “You’re on.”

**Author's Note:**

> from my notes when I was writing this: "kindaichi is definitely a tight end (lol)"


End file.
